


Spooky, Scary, Ghostly Hands

by thoughtfullightcollection



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, paranormal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 20:24:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21214556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtfullightcollection/pseuds/thoughtfullightcollection
Summary: Phil stays in a haunted hotel and gets more than spooked.





	Spooky, Scary, Ghostly Hands

> Phil wakes to the tickle of chilly fingers trailing down his neck and over his chest. His first thought is to kill Dan for waking him up in the middle of the night in a creepy hotel room. He's in no mood for messing about and he's about to say so when he remembers that Dan isn't with him. Dan is at home, in their flat, probably sleeping spread eagled across their bed without Phil next to him.  
  
And Phil is foolishly camped out, all alone, in a bloody haunted hotel room nowhere near the warmth of their flat and comfort of his boyfriend.   
  
He's kept his eyes shut tight, afraid of what he might glimpse in the dark, but they fly open when he feels those cool fingers stroking over his stomach, tracing the line of hair leading even lower.   
  
"What-" he starts, but something soft presses against his lips and there's a shushing sound breathed so quietly in his ear that he thinks he might have imagined it.  
  
Maybe he's imagining all of this. Maybe he shouldn't have had that glass of wine before bed. Perhaps this whole thing is a nightmare brought on by too many cookies too late at night. He really hopes it's the cookies.   
  
Still, he obeys the voice, stays quiet and perfectly still as that ghostly hand roams over his chest and down to where he's already hard and he quickly decides he won't be analyzing that if he lives through the night.  
  
When the hand wraps around his cock the contrast between cold air and hot skin makes him gasp and he grasps fistfuls of the sheet beneath him to keep from thrusting his hips into the air.   
  
There's a soft sound in his ear, a question, yes?, asking for permission to keep touching him? Asking if this is ok?  
  
"Yes," his voice breaks and he clears his throat.   
  
More firmly he says, "Please."  
  
Then he's being proper wanked, hips fucking into air, or energy, or whatever the hell ghosts are made of, he doesn't care about anything but how it feels and it feels bloody amazing.   
  
He comes on a loud moan all over his chest and stomach, and the touch of ghostly fingers has disappeared. He reaches out, searching for a form in the darkness, but his hand meets only empty air. He feels a little guilty, like he should return the favor, but the ghost has gone wherever ghosts go when they're not making hotel guests cum their brains out in the middle of the night.   
  
Instead he simply says "Thank you, Gerald."


End file.
